


common law

by ficfucker



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: someone's gotta prove they're in a steady relationship, else the town's looking to take four acres of land to pave into road and fuck, guess wayne and darry are the only candidates that could pull the wool over the eyes on that one
Relationships: Daryl/Wayne (Letterkenny)
Comments: 56
Kudos: 361





	1. Chapter 1

Wayne's so mad upon opening the letter, officially stamped with Letterkenny Town Council in red ink, he feels lightheaded. He pert near crumbles the damn thing in his fist as soon as he gets a few lines in, but he resists the urge. The last time he was this riled, it was over some uptown inbred degens had thought to lay hands on Katy and Wayne had made sure they left the hospital with wire in their Jaws. 

Mechanically, Wayne reaches across the table and takes the bottle of Gus N Bru, slugs it down in a couple long swigs. 

"Fuck," he says. 

"Well, ya gonna tell us where the dog died there, Big Shoots?" Darry asks, tone joking, though cautious since he can clearly read the anger radiating off Wayne. 

Any letter coming to them with such an official stamp on the front, that meant serious business. 

"Fuckin' town. Town's gone an'. Fuck a duck." Wayne inhales. "Town wants to claim four damn acres of property to pave over fer a street." 

Dan slams his fists down on the table and howls. 

Katy starts spitting curses and goes for another bottle of Gus N Bru. 

Darry's so shocked, his faces wrinkles up in confusion. 

"How's can they go an' dos that?" Dan demands, his voice gruff. "This heres land's been yours since your Dad hads it." 

"There's no fuckin' way they can," Katy spits. "Get them in court. No way they can claim more rights over this property than what we got" 

Wayne looks at the letter. The text is so formal and small in black type, it looks like rows and rows of marching ants. 

He reads, jaw firm, tongue a dead fish in his mouth, "'Because current homeowners are both nonmarried singles and that of a two family situation, the town of Letterkenny has jurisdiction to claim the property is not being utilized to full extent as assumed as farm land, as listed on taxes and other legal documentation. Due to this, the town council of Letterkenny has decided it will claim a maximum of four acres of bordering property to be paved as roadways in a beneficial manner. As compensation, the town will provide a money order of $5,000.'"

Darry looks quizzical. "How can they go an' figgure yous ain't usin' the land proper when me an' Dan both work every day. That gives y'all a four person situation." 

Defeatedly, Wayne says, "'Spose 'cuz you don't live here." 

"I'm gonna kick someone right in their snatch for this," Katy growls. She's pacing, bottle in her hand, and looking around at the three with her in the kitchen, Katy seems unsure what to do with herself and stomps out onto the porch. 

Dan asks, "Well how longs are they givin' yas before the asphalts come through?" 

Wayne looks back down at the paper. "Jus' over two months." 

Darry makes a noise, a soft, cracking gurgle that sputters from his throat. "Crock if I ever heard one." 

"How's bout we goes an' find McMurray for this particulars situation?" Dan offers. 

Wayne slaps his palm down on the table, says, "Swell plan. Pitter patter," and heads for the door.

* * *

The trip to the Ag Hall turns out to be a bust. A waste of gas. A fit of futile chin-wagging. McMurray tells the crew his hands were tied because the order was coming from another branch of the town hall and the Ag Hall had no vote or say on the matter. 

"Reckon we could er, go'n fight 'em on th's one fer sure, Wayne. Ain't g'nna take this one sittin' down," McMurray mutters, tight jaw tightening harder. 

Wayne waves a hand and makes to get back in his truck. "Not worth the ruffled feathers, McMurray, we'll fuck this pig one way or another." 

And so the hicks pile into Wayne's truck and go back to the farm.

* * *

Wayne takes a Puppers from the red plastic cooler by the produce stand, calls Gus, and goes to the barn to sit and drink and marinate sourly on the whole deal. He rubs Gus behind the ears. 

He looks out at the fields, all freshly tilled. Great day for hay. Round bales are curled like cinnamon rolls, evenly spaced apart from each other. He and Darry and Katy have all goofed around out there just as much as they've chored. Roughhousing. Drinking. Hide and seek between the corn stalks at night when they were kids. 

Four acres isn't exactly a lot when you count up the dozens and dozens they’ve got, but that’s like trying to decide whether you want to chop off a hand or a foot. Don’t matter if you can live without it, you won’t ever feel whole again once it’s gone. 

Wayne sighs through his nose. 

Every memory Wayne's made, he's made it here. With his best buds, with his sister, his parents, his ex-sweeties. All the pups and calves that have been slung and tended to. It all exists on this property. 

Anger flares up inside him again and he downs the rest of his Puppers, sets the bottle beside his chair. Gus can read something's off because he lays his ears back and sets his chin between his paws where he's flopped. 

Wayne doesn't want Gus feeling like he's done wrong, so he waves his hands at him and says, "'Way go. 'Way go," until Gus is trotting back towards the house. No reason to expose a senior dog to your sour mood. 

Wayne nurses a dart. He should be out choring, but there's a rock in his stomach. If there was a single person he could scrap with for this and be done with it, he'd be uncuffing his sleeves and getting down to business. 

That doesn't seem much like an option, though.

* * *

After the guys have finished evening choring, which was a tense, somber affair, Wayne keeping to himself during the whole deal, they sit by the produce stand and have their Puppers. It's strangely quiet. Dan and Darry both seem to know Wayne's working with a hair trigger, so the only sound between them is the occasional  _ hock-tccch _ of Darry spitting off to the side, and the chatter of wild birds twittering. 

They maintain this for about an hour and then Katy rolls up in the truck, crunching the gravel of the lane way. She throws it into park, kills the engine, and swings out. 

"Don't go parkin' her there, Katy, fuck's sake," Wayne groans. 

Katy shoots him a look, grabs a beer from the cooler, and plops herself down on her reclined lawn chair. It makes a plasiticky creak under her. 

"Went to the town clerk," she says. 

Darry leans forward, elbows on his thighs. "Yuh? And?" 

Katy takes a long gulp of her Puppers then says, "Well. Said really the only way to go an' prove we own the land proper is to show evidence of marriage." 

Wayne grumbles. "Had us all thinkin' this is good news, fly a fuckin' kite, Katy." 

Katy cranes her neck to glare at him, then continues, "Get off my dick an' lemme finish. Fuck. In Letterkenny, a common law marriage stands in place for this situation just as well as a legal paper would." 

Dan is scratching at his beard. "Whats are ya saying heres, Miss Katys?" 

"If we can make the town think me or Wayne's had a sweetie at least a year in the house, they can't take those acres." 

Everyone goes quiet, contemplative. 

"Shit outta luck," Wayne mumbles. 

Darry says, "Don't tell me you think those hockey nut tuggers will give you any weight. Whole town knows that ain't exactly a two-on-one exclusive club." 

Katy's face sours, but she sighs, deflating. "I know. Town clerk already said polyamory doesn't have stakes." 

Wayne spits. "Couple'a tit fuckers like them wouldn't pass the smell test anyhow. One look an' any man would tell ya those dinks aren't fit for the ring." 

"So whats are our options here?" Dan asks, sounding a bit helpless. 

"Well… spose…," Katy starts, cautious and soft. 

Wayne gives a hard, cold stare to the back of her head, knowing that the tip-toeing tone she's using means she's about to suggest something unfavorable at best. 

"Wayne, you an' Darry could give a go at the act…" 

Darry, more out of surprise than anything, starts up giggling. Little hyena chitters. 

"Hard no." 

Katy groans. "You won't fake date Daryl just long enough for us to get the town off our back? Thought you loved this land." 

"You've had too much sugar cereals," Wayne mutters. 

"I think it could really gives us a gain…," Dan posits gently. "Darry's here enoughs that anyones could attest to his presence on the farms. And yous two are thicks are thieves. Wouldn't comes as any surprise if yous had decided to tries laying the ground works for a more intimates relationship." 

Wayne's face scrunches up like a used napkin and he throws a glance at Dan, asking, "What line are you trying to cast here, exactly?" 

Dan holds his hands up in front of his chest innocently, eyes going round. "That you alls could plays convincing parts, is all." 

Darry finishes with his giggling and after spitting into the grass, asks, with a giddy grin, "Which one of us is the  _ girl _ in the relationship?" 

Katy says, "Daryl, don't be homophobic," at the same time Wayne mumbles, "You, ya fuckin' 10 ply tit."

"How is that homophobic?" Darry demands, sounding bewildered. 

"In my women's studies class," Dan cuts in, "I learned that it's improper to assigns a sex to homosexual couples, since it's heteronormatives and generally mysognistics to assume–" 

"'Bout 30% off 'er there, bud," Wayne interrupts. 

"Sorry." 

Katy seems frustrated and says, "Oh, who cares? Dan's right an' so am I." 

"Thank you, Miss Katys." 

"We can make this work," Katy continues. Her voice has taken on a serious, determined edge. "Say yous have been in a relationship for a year now, but haven't come out public until now." 

Wayne says, "So, we're closet cases." 

"Some lock an' key carpet munchers," Darry snickers. 

Katy groans. "We have two months to get this boat off the dock an' sailin' smooth. Wayne, Darry, start— I dunno. Holdin' hands or somehin'. Sit close at Modeans. If someone asks, say you're dating an' have been, but don't go waggin' it around over obvious." 

Wayne exhales from his nose and dumps the warm, foamy dregs of his beer into the grass by his boots. "Darry has hands clammy enough it makes New England chowder look amateur."

Darry smiles coyly and looks down. "Get sweaty when a sweetie wants to hold hands," he says softly. 

Dan says, "Reckon some finds that endearing, Daryl." 

Wayne gets up from his chair, joints stiff. "You want to know what I think? I think this truck ought to be moved before those puck-fucks ram their Jeep into it." 

And with that, he takes the keys from Katy, pulls the GMC around, and goes into the house.

* * *

Darry catches Wayne in the barn before he heads off for home. 

Wayne's sat down beside Stormy in the hay, ruffling her mane, scratching behind her ears. 

"Big Shoots," Darry says as way of greeting and to make himself known. 

Wayne, his legs a V out in front of him, erects his back and squints toward the doorway. "Little Shoots," he says back. 

"Reckon you know what I come 'round to talk 'bout." 

Wayne returns his attention to Stormy, says, "Pitter patter then." 

"Think Katy's right. We ought to pull 'er outta the quiver an' work for a bull's eye." He kicks at the ground with the toe of his dirty mucking boots. "Seems the only shot we've got at keepin' this place whole." 

"Most like-leh." 

"An' you know I love this place jus' as much as you an' yer folks do," he says softly. "Losin' any little inch, that's a hoof to the nuts if I ever heard one." 

"I know, Dar." Wayne sighs. "Jus' seems like a long shot." 

The evening sun is casting their shadows long, Wayne's and Stormy's to the back wall of the barn, and Darry's shadow reaching out and over Wayne's body. 

"Better than sittin' around an' pattin' our nuts." 

"Spose you're right." 

"Could even set ground rules." 

Wayne pulls a face. He gives Stormy one more loving ruffle then stands and faces Darry, his eyes pinched tighter than usual from the light being thrown over him. Makes his skin look golden, makes the hair of his eyebrows look even blonder. 

Darry feels himself going a little rosy over the look he's being given and stumbles onward. "Like. No kissin'. Only holdin' hands if someone's 'round to see it. That type thing." 

"No petnames," Wayne says firmly. 

Darry breaks out into a goofy smile. "We'll jus' play it soft. We ain't big on the PDA deal. But oh, spose we been together a year an' we figgure it's time we let the town know we're both saddled." 

"Good enough." 

"Good stuff." Darry draws a circle in the dry dirt with the tip of his boot, looking down then looks up, says, "Ought to be headed home then… darlin'."

As Daryl's turning to go, Wayne says, "Already breakin' the rules there, bud."

* * *

The next morning, at breakfast, Katy says, "Daryl, you oughta start spending the nights here." 

Darry replies with, "But I got my pups at my place." 

"Bring 'em over then." 

"Why even have a second home if I'm livin' here?" Darry asks, sounding a tad annoyed. "Pay a mortgage for no other reason than to keep my shit there like it's an uptown storage locker." 

"Don't piss the sheets there, pal," Wayne mutters. "We'll raise yer pay for the time you spend here." 

Katy seems delighted at Wayne's willingness to cooperate and smiles at the boys. "Dogs can stay inside or we can pen them in the barn." 

"Inside. My pups stay indoors." 

Wayne mumbles something about spoiling dogs that are still young enough to run free and starts forking his pancake into pieces. 

Darry rolls his eyes and continues spooning yogurt into his mouth. 

"So, guess we'll have to bring some yer stuff into Wayne's room–" 

"Send that through the fuckin' windshield an' headfirst into traffic, Katy, fuck. What's he gotta sleep in my room for? Guest room ain't got bed bugs," Wayne bites out. 

Katy's eyebrows pinch down. "Couples typically sleep together, Wayne, you forget that?" 

"'Cept sometimes if one of thems gots snorin' problems. Seens that on the Oprah talkshow, hows some sweeties got different beds 'cuz the other snores so bads," Dan comments. 

"Thank you, Dan," Wayne says dryly. To Katy, he adds, "Daryl can stay in the guest bedroom. Nothin' wrong with givin' yer sweetie space to stretch legs." 

No one points out that he's indirectly called Darry his sweetie. 

Katy sighs. "I'm still gonna put a framed picture or somethin' on yer dresser." 

"This is gettin' outta hand fast," Wayne grumbles. He pushes his half finished pancakes away from himself.

Katy sucks on her smoothie, swallows, and says, "Tonight we'll go to Modean's and yous can hold hands to get the ball rollin' that yall are together now." 

Darry giggles. "I'm sure Gail's gonna be glad to hear that Wayne's off market." 

Wayne drops his head down and groans.

* * *

For whatever reason, Wayne's got jitters down to his legs when he pushes open the door to Modean's and goes to his usual spot at the bar. A little fluttering in his chest. A pulse in his neck that lets his brain know his body is anxious about something. 

Darry takes place beside him, Dan next to him, and Katy farthest down the line. Darry's pushed far enough right on his stool that his thigh just barely brushes against Wayne's. 

It makes Wayne tense. 

Gail shimmies her way over to them and they order their usual. Post-choing shots. 

"Friday, boys, you know what that means," Gail hums while she pours the liquor. Her hips are swiveling in small, tight circles. 

"Not sures I do," Dan answers. 

"Means Gailer's lookin' for a sailor to cause a commotion in this ocean." She runs a hand down her front. "Wayne, you ready to get yer sea legs?" 

Wayne turns his chin away. "Negative." 

"Give me one good reason you don't wanna dock at this pier, cowboy." 

Wayne's face pinches and before he can say anything, Darry's saying, "Wayne an' I been datin' for awhile, actually." He clears his throat, half laughing. "Jus' didn't wanna come around airin' it till we knew it'd last." 

Gail doesn't seem the least bit shocked, and she voices it with, "Mmm. Figgured somethin' fruity was afoot in that smoothie. If you ever need a little hotdog bun to get those two sausages in, you know where I am." 

Wayne manages out a, "Thanks, Gail. Play it by ear with that one." 

And as if summoned, Glen appears. It's like he's popped up from under the bar, quick and unexpected as a jack-in-the-box springing. 

"What's this I hear about you playin' for the all men's league, Wayne?" he asks, giddy. He's got his hands up in front of him in clenched, trembling fists, his face cracked into a Texas sized grin. 

Wayne swallows down the lump in his throat. He's got a funny feeling in his stomach. "Me an' Darry been sweeties for a bit." 

"Ohhhh!" he squeals. "Wayne an' Darry! Oh, how cute is that?" He waves a hand at them, gushing. "Wayne, I don't know who's luckier there! Darry, you get all that good old boy  _ muscle, _ mm-mm, and Wayne, you get those teat-pullin' hands'a his." Glen giggles. "Bet I can imagine what  _ those _ are used for after milkin's done." 

Darry laughs, uncomfortable. "Yep. Lucky to got Wayne." 

Glen reaches over and boops Darry's nose playfully. "Well, good on yous! You bet yer bottoms the Lord is smilin' down on this union." Glen giggles again and bats his eyelashes at Wayne. "You two ever make it official, give me a hoot an' I'll give you a holler an' get yous hitched." 

Wayne gulps down his shot and says, "Thank you, Glen." 

Glen goes on, tittering to himself excitedly, mumbling about how adorable it is that Wayne and Darry are more than buddies, and leaves to bus an empty table. 

Wayne tries to release the tension making his thighs taut, his jaw a pulled bow string, but nothing gives. He feels hot in the face. 

Darry gives him a brotherly slap on the back. He leans in, whispers, "Hang in there, Super Chief." 

"10-4."

And to make things seem natural and not so strained, Dan starts in on a story about one of his cousin's shenanigans the last he seen him and Wayne pretends to listen. 

He's hyper aware of Darry's thigh pressed up against his, denim on denim. It's like it's burning a hole through him, hot as a branding iron, and sweat is pickling over his back, between the ridges of his shoulder blades. 

He's not sure why it's bothering him so much. It makes him worry he's being homophobic in his own head, which seems like a stupid thing to worry about, but it's a vicious cycle. 

Wayne pours himself another shot from the bottle Gail's left at the bar.

* * *

The night rolls on and word of Darry and Wayne being boyfriends spread quick through the bar. 

Bonnie McMurray gets wind of it and comes around to confirm the rumor, which the boys do. She grins at Darry, dagger-eyed, predatory, and squeezes out a very forced, "Oh, I'm happy for you two" that sounds like she's being held at gunpoint and demanded to say it to save her life. 

At this point, Wayne's taken enough Gus N Bru into his system that he snakes his arm over to Darry and grips his hand under the bar. 

If they're aiming for believability, they better act legit. 

Darry's either buzzed enough that he doesn't mind or he's tolerating it very well, because he doesn't even flinch. No change in facial expression. 

Darry's hand is clammy. 

* * *

Katy's the only one sober enough to drive them home. Squirrelly Dan sits shotgun and Darry and Wayne, both bordering on perfectly plastered, get the back seats. 

They're still holding hands and Wayne's starting to think it feels nice. His knees are loose and everything in the dark of the cab has a wavering, double-vision blur to it. 

Dan gets dropped off first. 

Wayne droops and his head leans to Darry's shoulder. 

Next is Darry's house, where they all get out to help load Darry's two dogs, a Shetland sheepdog named Trout, and a Jack Russell named Cricket, into the truck. Darry, with a stagger, opens his front door and lets the pups out for a piss in the yard, then goes in to grab some essentials. 

Wayne follows him in while Katy keeps an eye on the dogs. 

"Need'a t'thbrush… Some 'jamas," Darry mutters to himself as stumbles to his bedroom. 

Wayne waits outside the doorway, leaned up in the hall, says, "Don't forget yer cologne." 

Darry says, "Right, right, right." 

Wayne helps carry some things. A rolled up blanket tucked under his arm. A backpack stuffed haphazardly with both barn and sleep clothes in the other hand. 

Katy's got the two dogs seated politely together in the front, and Wayne and Darry pile into the back with Darry's things in their laps. They're sitting close again, like they need the other to stay uptight. 

Wayne says, "Think we gone an' pulled the cotton o'er their eyes," then hiccups. 

Darry says, sounding dreamy, "G'nna be jus' like'a sleepo'er." 

* * *

They make it to the farm in one piece. Katy sees that Darry gets tucked into the guest bedroom fine enough then wishes him goodnight. 

Wayne does his best at brushing his teeth and taking off his boots. Getting the laces to cooperate with him is the hardest part so eventually he resorts to kind of flail-kicking his ankles until they slip loose. 

He goes down the hall to peek in at Darry. 

He's laid out on the bed with Trout and Cricket at the foot of the bed, curled up like little donuts. His boots are tossed to the floor, next to his crumbled jeans. He's already out cold, mouth open as he sleeps. 

Wayne whispers a drunken, "G'n'ght, bud," then goes to his room, falls into bed, and is out cold before he can even finish getting his fly undone to take off his jeans. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Darry's up the same time as Wayne, because he can hear his alarm going off a few rooms over. He blinks awake and is hit with that disorienting "Where the fuck am I?" feeling that comes with sleeping in a guest bedroom. But he feels the warmth of Trout and Cricket through the blanket and recognizes the room and remembers. 

Right. 

He and Wayne are pretending to be sweeties. 

He gets up, head foggy, and finds his toothbrush in the bag he's brought along, and heads for the bathroom. 

Wayne's at the sink with the door open. He's a step ahead of Darry, brushing his teeth, but his hair isn't combed. Granted, Wayne hasn't got a lot of it, yet it's noticeable enough, the way it sticks and pokes out in certain directions, especially towards the nape of his neck. 

Darry bristles with what must be embarrassment. 

He's stayed over Wayne's before, plenty of times, but this is the first time in a while, and it's alien to see Wayne before he's put together. It makes Darry feel like some sort of peeping Tom. 

"Darry, how're ya now?" he greets around his red plastic brush. 

Darry kicks into motion and joins him at the sink, saying out the obligatory, "Good, an' you?" 

"Oh, not s'bad." Wayne spits into the sink and rinses his brush, returns it to the cup by the faucet, then steps out of the way. "Breakfast then chorin'. You know the score." 

Darry nods, squeezes some of Wayne's toothpaste onto his brush. 

Wayne goes to his room, presumably to comb his hair, and Darry's alone in the bathroom. 

He looks at himself in the mirror and tries to remember details from the night before.

* * *

For the next week, the crew goes about choring the way they would any other week.

Wayne cooks ham and sausage in the mornings and Darry goes into town to buy himself a supply of yogurt to keep in the fridge. They make a few additional trips to Darry's house for more necessities and to keep sure it's locked, look around and make positive no degens have been vandalizing the property. Trout and Cricket make themselves comfortable real quick, snoozing on the couch with Gus and going to the door and barking when they need to go out. The gang sits around the produce stand, has their Puppers. After supper, Darry helps clear the table and do the dishes with Katy. All three of them watch television before bed and then it's up to their separate rooms to sleep. 

It unsettles Wayne how easy it's been to make this seem normal. Darry's fallen perfectly in line with routine and to Wayne's surprise, hasn't been as obnoxious a houseguest as he'd assumed he might be. 

He figgured he'd be taking a migraine for the next two months or however long this is supposed to have legs. 

Rather, it feels good to have another resident, like it was only a matter of time before Darry came to stay with them. 

That thought disturbs Wayne. 

It makes choring easier, because there's never a risk Darry might be late to the farm and when it comes to things around the house, well, more hands make less work. Darry's right there, ready to go, as soon as Wayne opens his eyes. 

It's nice having someone extra to sling quips when they watch television. Katy and Darry can work up a good go-around in the living room before bed, one that Wayne appreciates. 

It's nice knowing Darry's on hand at all times to help with sudden house repairs. He's already pitched in on repainting the t shutters and mowing the front lawn. 

Wayne tries not to dwell on it too hard, how enjoyable it is to have Darry only an arm's length out.

* * *

By the end of the week, the hockey boys swing up in their Jeep to confirm the rumor. 

"Heard you an' Darry are cock jockeys," Reilly calls from the vehicle. 

"Couple'a pillowbiters," Jonesy adds. 

"Heard you boys are camp as a row of tents." 

"Caught wind that you guys sword swallow now." 

"Little birdy told me you fellas have taken a fancy to shirtliftin'." 

"Tossin' bales an' yankin' tails."

"Tillin' grass an' pipin' ass." 

Wayne stands up from his chair. He says, "Another word from ya an' you'll be wishin' you hadn't skipped out on grade school first aid." 

Darry spits, asks, "You learn them terms from the GLSEN meetin' last week?" 

"Yall are projectin' so much you oughta be in the classroom closet of a 2004 public school." 

"You guys touch tubes as kids an' figgure all boys did?" 

"Make ya curious any?" 

Darry holds up his fingers in a wide pinch, asks, "Which one of ya got a bigger willy?" 

"Use the same sock for clean up after a mutual masturbation marathon?" 

"Fuckin' barbaric," Darry says, shaking his head. 

"Barbaric, but better than bare-backin' it an' riskin' the anal fissure," Wayne says as though he's giving advice. 

"Which one of ya has a bleedin' back pipe? Call the plumber yet?" 

"Ever jerked it to Bareback Mountain? No shame if you pop a rocket to Gyllenhaal there, kitten." 

"How's 'bout Rocky Horror?" 

"Bet you two shoot anytime a man makes the cover of Swimswam." 

"Sling yogurt to a '74 Musclemag from under your dad's bed." 

Reilly and Jonesy give each other looks, then Reilly says, "Whoa, boys, we weren't tryna hate crime ya! We jus' wanted to know if the word is true." 

"It is. So fuckin' what?" Wayne asks, his eyes mean slits. 

Jonesy is smiling, says, "Well, congrats! It's tumble-weedin' round town an' we thought maybe… it was some skid startin' shit or somethin'." 

"Good on you, boys!" Reilly calls. "Heard some gum-flappin' while spottin' at the gym an' we didn't want some muscle heads thinkin' talk like that is free to fly." 

Wayne makes a face. "I don't even know your fuckin' names. What makes you think we give a shit in a boot 'bout you two jerk offs defendin' our names?" 

Jonesy frowns. "If Ronsy and Daxy taught us anythin', it's that fag-bashin' ain't got place in the rink." 

"No offense," Reilly adds. 

"Yeah, no offense, guys." 

Wayne holds a hand up. "Worry about each other's horns an' we'll worry 'bout ours. Chest-puffers got a problem, tell 'em to stop at the lane way an' I'll handle it from there." 

The two guys recline back down into their seats and Jonesy turns the key, shitty pop music blasting from the speakers. Over it, Reilly yells, "Hey, I don't bat fer that team, but Daryl, yer lucky havin' the toughest guy in Letterkenny slobbin' that knob." 

They peel out and Darry raises his middle finger at them. 

Wayne sits back down. He crosses his legs at the ankles and folds his arms. 

"Guess queer news travels fast in a small town," Darry mutters. 

Wayne hums to acknowledge he's heard. 

Most of that was for show, the typical ragging he and Darry fire back as soon as those tit tuggers are anywhere in sight, but what's concerning him is the fierce burning in his chest. This horrible urge to defend and protect Daryl. 

He's felt it before: in school when some future-skids were picking on Darry for wearing barn clothes to class. Last year when Rat Ass had gotten ballsy and given Darry a good shove and Wayne promptly floored the fucker. 

This is different, though. There's blood rushing through Wayne's ears. 

It's weird to imagine that in people's minds, he and Darry kiss. He and Darry having sex. He and Darry sharing a bed and "I love you"s. 

It's even weirder to imagine that if it were true, that he and Darry had sex and kissed and shared a bed, Wayne wouldn't even hesitate to organize a proper donnybrook over anyone who so much as gave his sweetie an indecent look.

* * *

They hit the bar that night, but make a promise not to get hammered. A few shots, some small talk, and then they'll head home. 

When they get there, McMurray is at the bar. 

His face puckers and he stammers for a full minute while the guys settle in their spots, and finally Wayne goes, "McMurray, how're ya now?"

He fumbles with his tongue, then blurts out, "Heard 'bout you an' Daryl an' I wanna say I'm-I'm more than acceptin' but I ain't one'a ya. No sir. Yous h've yer thing an' well, me, I got my wife." 

"Not so bad." Wayne turns away from him, says, "Gail, shots, if you please." 

McMurray keeps rambling on, his whole act and dance about how he's fine with homosexuals, but he's absolutely, under any acception, a homosexual himself. 

Eventually, Darry must tire of it because he asks, "So, yer fine with how me an' Wayne toe-curl each other? How we go off yes-in' together?" 

McMurray scrunches up further, he stutters. "Nothin'... Not a single thing wrong with uh, with two people in love… uh… expressin' it through actions…" 

"Good. Glad to know you ain't got any ifs or buts ‘bout it." 

And unexpectedly, Darry leans over and gives Wayne a sweet, dry kiss on the cheek, murmuring, "Jus' play along." It's quick as a blink and brushes him light as a ghost. 

Wayne's been going red ever since Darry mentioned sex, but now he feels it spread over the back of his neck and rush down to his chest. 

Darry's broken one of their rules. 

For good reason, it seems, at least, because McMurray promptly shuts his quivering mouth, mutters that he's got to go piss, and scurries away like a scolded dog. 

From somewhere behind them, Katy's squealing with laughter, delighted, and Wayne blushes harder. 

Darry takes Wayne's hand under the bar, and gives him a squeeze like that's going to make things any better. Wayne's heart and stomach both do a flip. He hits his shot, taps his glass, asks for another. 

"Don't hit for home, bud, we promised to go easy," Darry whispers, leaning back in so Wayne can feel his breath on his neck. 

"Am goin' easy." He gives Darry a squeeze back, more a reflex than a conscious act. 

So Wayne and Darry sit at the bar and have their shots while holding hands. McMurray doesn't resurface, very obviously bothered by two male hicks showing affection. Wayne's glad. It's either McMurray being absolutely vulgar about the women he's screwed other than his wife or he's defending himself blue over imaginary accusations that he's anything other than heterosexual. Wayne isn't keen on either. 

Tanis, however, does come rolling by, first time Wayne's seen her since this whole pretend dating bit came about. 

She leans on the bar and smiles brightly, putting a hand to Wayne's shoulder. She says, "Heard yous an' the milkman over there are swingin' lefthanded for each other." 

"Can confirm." 

Tanis laughs from her nose and crawls her hand up to Wayne's neck, brushing her thumb against his jawline. "You know what? Good for you, boo. Probably do some good to try mowin' grass on the other side of the fence." 

Wayne tingles where Tanis touches him. "Thank you, Tanis," he says, monotone. 

"Oh, I'm jus' teasin' yous." She drops her hand away. Her nails are painted and she's wearing a few rings. "But if things don't work out, no offense, Daryl, you know the route to Aunt Tanis's door, don't ya?" 

"Don't need GPS to find my way," Wayne says. 

Tanis touches his shoulder again, but with less flirtatious intent. "'Kay, see you, boo. Darry, don't let him get weird 'bout how he takes off his boots." She waves with her fingers and moves on. 

Darry asks, "That boot thing an innuendo or—?" 

"Long story." 

"Figgure I oughta know at least a few secrets 'bout my sweetie." 

"No petnames."

* * *

By Monday, Katy's convinced Wayne that he and Darry ought to head over to the town clerk and explain the common law marriage they've cooked up. Get the horses saddled and the fuss out the way with. 

Wayne grumbles lowly, but gets up from the table, marches upstairs, and makes sure his snaps are straight and that his hair is combed. Darry follows. 

"Don't go wearin' barn clothes to town," Wayne says from the bathroom. 

Darry appears in the doorway. "Well, all my decent shirts are hung on the line to dry an' ain't no way they are yet. What's wrong with this one?" He gestures one handedly to the white half button up undershirt he wears beneath his coveralls. 

Wayne wrinkles his nose. "Smells like you've been out rollin' with the cows, that's what's wrong with it. Go an' get one'a mine if you ain't got others, fuck. I'm not takin' ya into town lookin' like you wasn't brought up right." 

Darry gets a goofy grin about him. He grips both hands to the doorframe and leans his weight back, swinging side to side like a monkey. "Big step, lettin' yer sweetie borrow shirts." He giggles. "Want me lookin' proper for everyone to see?" 

"No petnames," Wayne reminds. He steps past Darry to go into his room and find a plaid that might fit Darry at least halfway decent. "An' I'm not lettin' you in my truck stinkin' like cattle." 

Darry rolls his eyes. “Like yer all put together.”

“Don’t smell like ripe hay an’ I don’t wait till I’m left with one pair of drawers an’ an undershirt to get my wash sorted,” Wayne grumbles, going past Darry to his room. 

“Didn’t know we’d be goin’ into town, fuck’s sake,” Darry tries to defend. 

Wayne yanks open his shirt drawer, paws through the folded long sleeves he’s got. He finds one that he figures will do for now and tosses it at Darry, who catches it in his arms. “Pitter patter. Great day fer hay an’ I’m not tryna spend more time on this than we got to.”

* * *

Pulled up to and parked by the curb, Wayne switches his truck off and turns to Darry in the passenger seat. “You remember them rules?”

Darry squints against the sunlight that’s coming in through the windshield. He rolls the sleeves up on his borrowed shirt again, a navy blue and white plaid that he absolutely swims in, and starts tallying off on his fingers. “No cussin’. No fartin’. No sayin’ more than what’s asked of me.”

“Attaboy.” Wayne gives Darry a brotherly slap on the shoulder, then pops the door open and steps out. He does quick math for it and assuming anyone on the street or in the town hall might be watching, Wayne goes around and gets the door for Darry as a display of chivalry.

“Oh, why, thank you,” Darry purrs with a goofy grin. 

“Don’t wanna be lookin’ like some tit,” Wayne mutters. 

Wayne makes the few long-legged steps it takes to be at the front of the building and holds that door open for Darry, too, letting him walk in first. 

Inside, it’s air conditioner cool and lowly lit, the off-white commercial office blinds twisted tightly shut to keep out the sun. Wayne gets goosebumps from the sudden change in temperature and he blinks a few times. He feels sunblind, the room looking strangely blue. 

Wayne steps up to the town clerk, reaches into his breast pocket, and produces the crumpled envelope that started this whole tire fire. He sets it down politely on her desk, says, “How’re ya now, Mrs. Bennett? Here to sort out a property claim quick as we can.” 

Mrs. Bennett smiles and slides the envelope across the desk so she can reach inside and read the letter. She’s got black frame glasses and hair the color of buttercream. Wayne can’t recall who was town clerk before her, she’s been in position so long. He's registered more than a dozen dogs with her signing the papers. 

“Alrighty, Wayne. Seems you need proof of a marriage or an additional, long term resident to show legitimacy,” she says, setting the letter back down. “Are either you or Katy able to?” 

Wayne nods shortly. “Daryl an’ I been shackin’ as sweeties a year an’ two months now,” he says. “‘Ccordin’ to my sister Katy’s knowin’, that meets grounds fer bein’ common law.” 

It’s silly how easy Wayne blushes over all this. Whether it’s the lying or the fact that he’s expressing something for Daryl to just about the whole town, something makes him feel embarrassed.

“And I take it this here is Daryl?” Mrs. Bennett smiles sweetly and points the end of her pen to Darry, peering over her glasses at him. 

Darry grins like a schoolboy and takes a half step closer to the desk so he’s side by side with Wayne and he says, “Yep. Wayne an’ I ain’t gone public till real recent. Wanted to be nice an’ sure the honey was sweet ‘fore we went on with lettin’ the cat outta the bag.”

“Nothing wrong with certainty.” Mrs. Bennett peels a page off her yellow notepad and clicks her pen. “Alls I need is a few more details about this arrangement an’ then we can schedule for a family and property assessment and you two will be set.”

That’s a hoof to the chestnuts, but Wayne doesn’t let his face say it. Instead, he goes about describing their arrangement, gives her the number to the house, and explains the sooner the better when it comes to the check-in. 

Darry stays churchmouse quiet, nodding along to what Wayne says. 

Mrs. Bennett nods and clicks her pen again, looking over the scribbles she’s jotted down. “Looks perfect, boys. I’ll get this into the office quick as I can an’ we’ll be in touch, okay?” 

“Good stuff,” Wayne says. “Thank you.”

Darry grins, all peachy, and inches closer to Wayne. Wayne gives him a subtle look and Darry swallows, reaches his arm around so his hand rests on Wayne’s hip. “Fine as twine, Mrs. Bennett, thank you for yer time.” 

Something knots up inside Wayne. He pushes it down.

“You boys enjoy this nice weather, alright?”

Darry and Wayne agree to in unison, then turn and go, Darry’s hand still cupped to Wayne’s waist. 

In the truck, Darry looks downright shameful. “Sorry ‘bout that grope, Big Shoots, but you was rehearsin’ lines like you were the star of the show an’ I didn’t want her doubtin’ what we’ve got spinnin’.” 

Wayne starts his truck. “Long as it saves the farm, I can forgive it.” 

Darry runs his hands up and down his thighs, chews his bottom lip. Antsy as an exterminator. 

To pacify him, Wayne says, “Since we’re in town an’ the duck’s on the lake, how ‘bout we go an’ get somethin’ to celebrate with?”

Darry couldn’t look happier if he tried.

* * *

“Well, you two gonna spill the beans or do we gotta beat it outta ya?” Katy asks. 

Wayne licks a stripe of strawberry frosting off his upper lip. “Ain’t out from the prickers, but plane’s flyin’ straight for the foreseeable future.” 

“Well I’ll bes dipped in shits an’ rolled in sugars,” Dan breathes. 

“Figgured as much since yous gone an’ got cake an’ chips,” Katy says. “Thank you, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, Katy,” Wayne answers. 

“But,” she continues. “More so meant what’s the situation? They jus’ buy it stock or do we gotta dicker?”

“Dicker,” Darry says, mouth all full of chewed up chip mash. 

Wayne says, “Swallow ‘fore you speak, Darry.”

“Dicker how?” Katy asks. 

“Well…” Wayne squints up at the sky, looks back down at his plate of cake. It’s vanilla with whipped strawberry frosting and those tiny circle sprinkles that kids seem to go nuts for these days. Anyone could guess that Super Soft Darry had picked it and that anyone would be right.“Someone’s gotta come over an’ give us a look-see…”

Dan and Katy both toss their heads back, groan. 

“But,” Darry says. “After that, we’re home-free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> won't lie: hockey boy chirpin was probably the most fun part to write out of this whole damn piece


	3. Chapter 3

Wayne and Darry sit out on the back porch that night with the single bulb light on above them casting a dull buttery glow. Darry's got his shotgun over his lap. Wayne's got his rifle tucked up against his shoulder. Wayne had seen coyote scat out in one of the fields when he'd gone to pick stones after their little cake and chip party by the produce stand.

Trout is curled up obediently by Darry's boots, head down between his paws.

"Say, Darry, what'd ya go an' name yer dogs after other animals for?" Wayne asks.

"Well, Cricket can be a person's name."

"Cannot."

"Can, too."

"Cannot."

"Can, too."

"Okay, Darry. Darry, okay. Fire off one person of significance named Cricket an' I'll stop comin' yer way."

Darry mulls it over. "Leonard Lake, that famous killer, you know, he had a wife named Cricket."

"Wasn't actually named Cricket."

"Was, too."

"Nup. Cricket was a nickname, ya goose. Her real name was Claralyn Balaz."

Darry seems to sulk, then says, "If I was named Claralyn, I'd rather be called Cricket, too."

"Oh, I ain't goin' up to bat against that one," Wayne mutters.

After a beat, Darry says, "Dane Dehan played a fella named Cricket Pate in that film what has Tom Hardy an' Shia LaBeouf an' Thomas Clarke in it."

"Lawless," Wayne supplies cooly. "An' Cricket Pate is fictional as Pinocchio."

"Bondurant boys was real, though."

"Yuh," Wayne confirms, "but Cricket ain't."

Darry shakes his head. "Wait a minute now. Got yer facts twisted, Wayne. Cuz I gone an' read the book, Wettest County in the World, what Lawless is based round, an' Cricket's in that."

Wayne's quiet. "So. Like. You gone an' named a dog after 'im?"

Darry shrugs. "Naw, jus seen her as a pup an' figgured… that dog there's a Cricket if I ever seen one."

"An' Trout? That name got any roots to it?"

At hearing his name, Trout raises his head and sniffs toward Wayne, his tail thumping dully against the wood boards of the porch.

"Spose not. Name ain't gotta have meanin' anyhow. Sometimes you jus' see a dog an' think 'that boy's a Trout much as God's got sandals'."

"Spose so."

Darry doesn't have a reply, so they sit in a decent silence.

The night is cool and blue, some fireflies flickering yards off in the grass like little fairy lights. Leaf peepers sing their ringing songs loud enough from the water and under the duff that it can be heard for miles around. Little brown bats swoop overheard in wide, flapping arches and catch mosquitoes by the dozens.

If they had a barrel fire going or were laid out on a blanket, Wayne would most certainly consider this a date.

Coyote watching or not, it seemed dateish, sitting out in the dark together, enjoying the sounds of the nocturnal wildlife.

To distract from this, Wayne stands, rifle slung safely over his shoulder, and says, "How's 'bout we walk the property a sweep to see if we can spot any of them chicken snatchers."

Darry lifts his shotgun in a mimic of how Wayne's got his rifle then stands. "Sure thing, Big Shoots."

Because Darry's stood now, Trout gets up, wagging his tail and Darry shoos him inside with a single hand waving, mumbling, "'Way go, 'way go," same how Wayne does

They go down the steps and Darry marches behind Wayne.

Soon as they get past the barn where Wayne keeps most his work vehicles, Darry pipes up with, "How's 'bout we take the fourwheeler? Faster that way."

Wayne stops in his tracks. He turns on his heel and squints at Darry in the dark, who is less a face and more a shadowed figure. If they're on the fourwheeler together, that means they'd be pressed right close to the other, no way around it, but Wayne can't think of a reason to get out of it and Darry's looking at him expectantly.

"'Kay. Leave your shotgun in the barn. You can hold my rifle. So much as point that thing an inch too near me, I'll have you floored quicker than you can find the trigger."

"Got it."

Darry does as instructed, leaving his shotgun safely in the barn, while Wayne checks to make sure they have the gas to take a spin. They do, and he sits himself down, turns the machine on. It jumps to life with a rumble and he looks over his shoulder to watch Daryl strap his rifle over his chest.

Darry comes up behind him and mounts the fourwheeler. Wayne wants to say that he's got to let the engine warm, but it somehow feels rude considering Darry's already sat. They sit and Wayne presses the gas with his thumb, keeping them in park so the engine revs lowly.

He reaches for the shifter, then says, "Hold tight, boutta give 'er a go."

Darry understands and scoots himself closer to Wayne, wrapping his arms around his middle. They're seamed together. Darry asks, "This s'alright?"

"Dont be fuckin' awkward, bud," Wayne mutters, throwing them into reverse and backing out of the barn.

Wayne shifts again and they're in drive. Darry drops his hands down and hooks his fingers through Wayne's belt loops. Wayne can't decide if that's better or not. It feels abstractly more intimate.

They circle the property once in silence, checking all the fields, down by the water, near the animal paddocks, but there's no signs of anything other than the corn and the cows.

They're way out in the acres when Darry says over the light wind and the steady purr of the fourwheeler, "We gone an' checked an' ain't no creepers… How's 'bout we jus' give 'er a rip?"

Wayne's blood thrums in his ears. He's told Darry no to a million things a million times before. Hell, they can barely agree on how to grill steaks without coming to fists over it.

But Wayne says yes.

He tells himself it's because he likes the gallop to his heart when he slams the gas.

They whiz across the fields, headlights bouncing in front of them, and as Wayne pushes further and further on the button throttle, Darry gives a holler. He readjusts himself, clinging to Wayne with his arms around his middle again, his face buried into his shoulder. They're really flying. You know you're going fast when you get that whistling sound tickling your ears, your eyes both dry and blurry.

Wayne eases up lightly. He blinks rapidly. His stomach's dropped like he's on a rollercoaster and Darry's still wrapped around him like a jacket. He's got a little hard in his pants and he can't blame it completely on the excitement of tearing up grass. The warm, heavy weight of Darry pressed to him in completion is pert near half the source of arousal.

He steers them gently into the barn, turns the key to off.

Darry unpeels himself. His curls are windblown. "Boy, whippin' on fourwheelers won't ever get stale."

"Can confirm," Wayne says. He's glad it's dark in the barn. Darry won't be able to see him half tenting his jeans.

Darry dismounts and unstraps Wayne's rifle, holds it out for him. "Probably best we didn't see nothin'."

"Ain't in sight, ain't an issue." Wayne takes his rifle, watches Darry retrieve his shotgun.

"Lock up an' hit the hay?" Darry asks.

"10-4."

* * *

Darry "'Way go"s Trout and Cricket, herds them into the living room where Gus is snoring, his jowls flapping with each puff he exhales. His pups seem a bit confused, but they also don't seem bothered to curl up with old Gus on the couch for the night.

"Night, kiddos," he says, kissing them on the tops of their heads. He gives a kiss to Gus, too. Super fucking soft.

Darry toes up the stairs and gets to his room, clicks the door shut as silent as he can. He steps out of his jeans, undoes his shirt. On the floor is Wayne's plaid he'd leant him for the meeting with the town clerk. He'd taken it off when they'd got in from town, finding one of his own dry on the line, but he hadn't bothered to return it.

Darry gets into bed, has taken Wayne's shirt with him.

He's working with some hardware from that fourwheeler ride and he's trying to tell himself what he'd tell Wayne: "Can't help but get a semi in a semi truck."

Ain't Wayne's causing, though there's not much a heterosexual explanation to the fact that he's got Wayne's plaid bunched up on his chest and his nose dipped into it, the dirt and strong, cutting soap smell of Wayne being inhaled.

He dips his hand into his underwear. Darry hasn't batched since coming to stay on the farm, feeling it's wrong somehow to be mailing letters to Jesus in a guest bedroom, despite the fact that he's hovered in places much more immoral, but he's come to a tipping point and if he doesn't ditch soon he'll be all turned around backwards.

He hasn't got any Vas. Not a big deal seeing that he's gone and crazy glued all down the front of his boxers.

"Fuck's sake," he mutters to himself.

Mix the exciting rumble of a good engine mowing through a field with the warm, strong body of your best buddy you've been more or less sweet on for the better half of a decade and you've got yourself an O Canada sized situation. The comforting, masculine smell of Wayne's borrowed plaid is gasoline on the bonfire.

Darry tries not to think of Wayne. He feels guilty for it and he's constantly trying to push those thoughts to the back burner, especially now that they've got to fake this thing together. He doesn't want to get wires crossed, end up with hurt feelings.

It's a complex stew. Darry's not the best at walking the straight and narrow, as history's proven, and attraction is no different.

He's absolutely a goner.

He's working himself over good and fast, not focusing on fancy techniques for pleasure, rather going quick as he can so he can call it a night, when he hears something.

A groan.

Wayne, no doubt in the world.

The house is quiet enough that Darry can hear him clear as a bell and following the first low groan is a huff of breath.

Darry's stomach warms and twists to knots and suddenly he's fired up enough he could melt a six mile circle around him where he lays. He feels dirty and wrong. He jerks himself harder, rucking his boxers down to his thighs so his sword swings free.

It's hard listening over the rough pumping of his heart, but Wayne makes another noise.

"Darry, fuck," in a little angel sigh.

Darry feels like his heart has leaped up into his throat and before he can really pin a single thought down, his prick throbs in his hand and he spurts hot lines of seed up over his freckled lower stomach. It dribbles and puddles in his pubic hair. He kind of grunts, surprised at how abrupt he fired, and he reaches around for a sock to wipe off with.

Wayne groans again from down the hall, then falls silent, and Darry is left to assume he's finished the race, too.

He imagines Wayne's head strained into the pillow, eyebrows bunched, and his toes curling under his blankets.

Darry's spent pecker certainly likes the thought, but it's not the one he should be stuck on when Wayne's only a couple doors to the right of him, throwing wristers intense enough that he can't even keep himself quiet.

Maybe Darry's got a chance.

* * *

The next morning, Wayne's up early.

He cooks sliced ham, gets the house smelling good and hot and greasy, and Darry comes trotting down the stairs in his blue coveralls, veering straight to the fridge to snap off a tub of yogurt from the string of containers on the second shelf.

"Mornin'," Darry greets.

"Mornin'."

"Katy not up yet?"

"Gone into town for orange juice."

"Didn't even hear the truck go," Darry hums, setting himself up at the table. He peels the little foil square off the top of his cup.

"Well. You were the one who gone an' finished the carton an' didn't give Katy word of it." Wayne flips the cuts of browning ham.

Darry giggles. "Oughta let her have the rest of the leftover cake then. Slipped my mind completely."

Wayne hums.

"Need any help there?"

"Know how to cook ham better 'an you do."

Darry scoffs. "Lemme run the coffee then."

Wayne scoffs back, goes "Pffft" at him. "Fuckin' whole world knows you make coffee stronger than buck piss, no one's gonna drink that."

Darry sets down his yogurt cup and goes around into the kitchen to get at the coffee maker. "Oh, fly a fuckin' kite, fuck's sake, Wayne, yer a pansy. Jus' make it a double double an' it'll go down easy."

"More like a triple triple with that shit liquid."

Darry's reaching into the cupboard for the coffee grounds and about to argue back when Dan comes in the front door, says, "Mornin' alls."

"Mornin', Dan," Wayne and Darry say in unison.

"Well, ain't yous two just a couples of lovebirds talkin' like them twins from The Shinings."

"Settle down there, Squirrelly Dan, 'fore I come give ya a talkin' to."

Dan pulls on the straps of his overalls, says, "Don't means to be playin' with matches in the hays barn, Wayne, jus teasin's is all."

"Oh," Darry chirps. "Wayne's jus' grumpy cuz I'm in charge of coffee this mornin'."

"Where's Miss Katys?" Dan asks, taking a seat.

"Darry acted a degen, downed all the orange juice, didn't have the decency to tell Katy so she's gone to town."

"Ah," says Dan.

They go quiet and Wayne drifts to fixing on how goddamn domestic this whole scene is already making out to be. Darry and Dan both teasing him like they are, it feels Wayne's got himself a sweetie and he's getting chirped at for it. It makes his stomach go warm and he squints down at the sizzling pan, his eyes unfixed.

He still feels nerved from last night.

He'd gotten it in his head that if he cooked something for Darry, it'd act as an apology for batching to the thought of him.

Not that Darry knows, it's just that Wayne's got a good guilt brewing in his stomach.

"Hey there, cosmonaut, yer burnin' yer cuts," Darry jumps in. He hip checks Wayne away from the stove and removes the pan from the hot top, clicking the heat off.

Wayne blinks. "Fuck," he mutters.

"Where's ya heads at, Big Shooter?" Dan asks from the table.

Wayne swallows, watches as Darry flips the slices of ham to inspect the damage then goes for a plate.

"Caught up on shootin' them yellow eyes bastards what droppin' turds in the fields," he lies, stepping around Darry to grab the coffee pot.

"Didn't get none last night?"

Darry says, "Nup."

Wayne pours them all a cup.

Katy comes in with a half gallon of orange juice in her hand, the other on her hip, and asks, "What's burnin'?"

* * *

Wayne and Darry are stone picking in the field together. Dan's collecting eggs because Wayne knows how to treat his farmhands proper and whether or not Dan will ever admit to it, it's obvious he strains his back leaning down to pick stones, so Wayne's saddled him with easier tasks.

Besides that, Wayne knows that Dan, whether or not he'd ever admit to it, talks to the hens when he's in the coop and you ought to let a man have that kind of time in private.

Darry stands, sucks snot up into his head, and spits far off to his left.

Katy comes trotting through from the house and says, "Boys."

"Katy, how're ya now?"

"Good, an' you?"

"Not so bad." She puts her hands to hips and exhales. "Mrs. Bennett called."

"What's the word?" Darry asks.

"Fella's gonna come over next Monday to look around, talk to you."

Wayne nods, bends back down to uproot another rock. "Good stuff."

Katy lingers a bit, shoving her hands into the pockets of her cut offs, then says, "I'm not tryna tell you guys what's proper in this chicken fuck of a situation but…"

"No buts," Wayne says.

"But," Katy continues. Her bare shoulders slump from under the small straps of her halter top. "I saw Stewart in town this mornin' when I was goin' to get juice— thank you, Darry— an' Stewart said he wouldn't believe it till he seen it."

"Seen what?" Darry asks.

"Well, Roald caught wind of it when Glen saw the skids somewhere around town an' you know how Glen is… So Glen's been chirpin' that you two are sweetie's an' Roald said he couldn't believe Wayne is…"

"A sally?" Darry offers.

"Don't be homophobic, Darry," Wayne scolds.

Katy shrugs. "Then Stewart got to snoopin', for some fuckin' reason, an' he's gone askin' if anyone's seen you two…"

"Fuckin' get'a'ter'er, Katy, fuck's sake," Wayne presses.

"Well, that no one's ever seen you two kiss."

Wayne opens his mouth, then closes it.

Darry giggles like the degen he is.

"Fuck a duck," Wayne grumbles. "Whose beeswax is it what a man does with his sweetie anyhow? Spose now you want me to French Darry right there down at the end of the lane way for anyone to peek."

Katy smiles a half amused smile, laughs through her nose at the suggestion. "Look, Wayne, Darry, I'm not sayin' yous gotta kiss or even hold hands, but it's gotta be believable, 'specially this upcoming week." She starts walking backwards toward the house, adds, "An' the guy from town hall, he's gonna look in the house, too."

"Sounds like a tall order," is what Darry says when Katy's inside.

"Super fuckin' tall order."

"Go o'er rules again then?"

Wayne tosses his rocks down into the tin tub they've been collecting them in and slots his fingers into his belt loops, squinting off toward the sun instead of looking directly at Darry. "Well. Already gone an' broke them ones."

Darry seems embarrassed, gets to toying with the grass under his boots by twisting his ankle, seeing how it flattens. "Spose that's true."

"It ain't wholly off the table," Wayne says.

"What's that?"

"Get yer ears checked, I'm not repeatin'."

Darry kind of grins lopsided at Wayne and it feels like suddenly they're sharing a secret around behind the barn over a dart or something and the back of Wayne's neck goes red.

"I heard ya, bud," Darry says, still smiling.

"Only if it's called for," is all that Wayne says.

* * *

The next couple days are about as mundane as they can be. Wayne cooks breakfast, Darry helps with the small things, Dan and Katy sit at the table and they all eat together. They chore. Pulling teats, picking stones, tilling hay, moving bales into the barn, mowing the yard. Nothing particularly exciting, but exactly what Wayne enjoys. Hard work that makes his feet ache and keeps his thoughts from running away, though he's still victim to getting semis up there in the combine like any man getting jiggled like that and it's rough not to think about Darry.

Wayne's noticed that Darry's been whistling while he works, a bit of pep in his step, his already untamed smile sunshining over him with much less effort, and Wayne tries to convince himself it's because he makes a good host, that it's nice to be around the farm, but his mind is drawn inevitably to the conversation in the field when they were picking stones. Darry grinning. Wayne putting that offer out on the table.

They've got to watching movies at night now, too. Katy pops popcorn in the microwave and sits in the armchair while Wayne and Darry take places on the couch, Trout and Cricket and Gus wanting up, too, but Wayne "'Way go"ing them until they're settled on the floor. He let's Darry pick what they watch, so they end up sitting through Gilbert Grape and Lawless and Walk The Line.

* * *

Darry decides, for whatever fucking reason, that Sunday's are fit for being fucking soft which means they've got to watch something sappy and Wayne's given Darry this much slack, he's not about to yank the leash now, so that's how he ends up watching Ghost with Darry on the couch.

Katy, conveniently, had seen the rented library DVD on the kitchen table earlier in the day and decided she was going to be out that night and Wayne isn't her dad and she's a grown woman so he's got no say in the matter.

"I think Patrick Swayze, he's the type of handsome that's timeless," Darry comments, unprompted.

"10 to 15% off there, bud," Wayne says quietly.

"What? You sayin' Swayze isn't grounds for attractive thirty years later?"

"Swayze is a sex icon, I'm not gonna piss in the wind 'bout that. Jus' don't wanna go talkin' how handsome men are with you 'round."

Darry cocks his head, turning to look at Wayne in the dark of the living room, not two feet apart, and says, "Well. Like. Why not?"

"Ain't gonna spell it out for you there, Dar," Wayne mumbles, not turning away from the television.

Darry doesn't say anything else and returns his attention to the screen, but he's subtly started worming his way closer to Wayne, and once he's flush to Wayne's thigh and Wayne hasn't said a word about it, Darry slowly and carefully, like coaxing out a barn cat, sets his arm around Wayne's shoulder.

Wayne likes the feeling mighty and his heart hiccups at how warm Darry is and he tries to reciprocate by leaning in a bit so it's more a snuggle than an awkward embrace.

"Fer uh." Wayne clears his throat. "Practice for when the town hall comes knockin'."

"Past midnight. Technically Monday," Darry whispers. "Could be comin' to check in any minute now."

"10-4."

It's a roundabout way of justifying the act, the touching, but Wayne's not going to be the first to admit that they've gone and broken rules. Darry's wanting as he is and despite the fear that creeps up Wayne's spine, the anxiety of taking that step with Darry, to possibly ruin a friendship like running a drunk mouth, Wayne wants bad and he's tired of denying. They can fool around at it a bit, he figures, so long as no one gets hurt or goes voicing anything 10 ply about the situation.

Wayne's head starts to droop and when Darry yawns, he knows they're going to end up sharing the couch together, and Wayne's too comfortable to even bother getting up to switch the TV off. That'd be like breaking a silence. He doesn't want to disturb the air, so he lets himself doze off, Darry curled up around him, the dogs at their feet.


	4. Chapter 4

Wayne's typically a light sleeper, up at the first rooster crow to start breakfast and get a beat on the day before the sun comes pelting down hot, but that morning, he's not stirred from sleep until Katy's voice is pulling him up.

He blinks his eyes open. Darry's a dead weight on his arm, his leg slung sloppily over Wayne's thigh, and they've fallen asleep in their jeans, slumped down on the couch. Wayne's neck hurts.

He reaches over for a throw pillow and puts it over his lap despite no one being around to see the bulge in his jeans caused by his morning wood, his ground squirrel definitely alert to the fact that Darry's one movement away from fully straddling him and fuck if that's not distracting enough to make him zone out completely.

Katy's still talking and Wayne figures it's to Dan.

He yawns.

"They're right over here," Katy says.

It's then that Wayne realizes Katy's definitely not talking to Dan and he hears an unfamiliar voice respond, but Darry's heavy and not budging an inch, and Wayne's a little too groggy to even put the effort in to look presentable.

"Wayne. Darry. You've got someone here to see you," Katy says. She reaches over, jostles Wayne on the knee, gives Darry a light shove on the shoulder.

Wayne squints up at the man in the formal shirt and offers a slurred "How're'ya now?" while Darry snorts in surprise and sits up, a patch of drool shining against the sprigs of facial hair on his chin.

The man offers out a polite hand, which Wayne takes firmly. "Wayne. Darry. Sorry to uh, come 'round at a bad time," he says, looking embarrassed.

Darry shakes his hand then yawns, his eyes tearing up. "Wha' time's it anyhow?"

"'Bout nine," Katy answers.

Wayne gets to his feet with a start which knocks the pillow off his lap and he's thankful his arousal has gone down. He squares his elbows and says, "Fuck's sake, Katy, let us saw logs the whole mornin' through?" He squints over at the lawyer looking fella. "Let's get after her with all this commotion. I've got chorin', if you don't mind. Can follow me out to the barn."

Katy opens her mouth to complain, but the town hall guy nods, says, "I understand you're a busy kind 'round here."

Wayne leans over and instead of giving Darry a slap on the thigh like he'd plan, he changes with a dime turn and playfully plants a hand in his hair and gives his curls a good ruffle like he would with Stormy, mumbles, "Get'a move on, darlin'. Teats need pullin'."

Wayne goes into the kitchen, pours he and Darry a mug of coffee, takes his own, and with this notetaker in tow, marches out towards the barn without bothering to change his day old clothes.

* * *

"So. You an' Daryl met how?" Vince asks. He's sat down uncomfortably on a green plastic milk crate while Wayne tosses bales into the bed of his truck.

"In school," Wayne answers shortly.

"Oh, so quite a long time then."

"Can confirm. Known Darry 'bout my whole life it seems."

"An' you started dating when?"

Wayne squats, hooks his fingers into the biting tautness of a rope of white twine, and hucks another. "A year an' two months ago this comin' Friday."

"Didn't come out publicly until near a month ago, according to Mrs. Bennett's records?"

Wayne grunts. "Yuh. 10-4. Wasn't nobody's business 'cept our own." Wayne stops his bucking and turns, a palm to the tailgate of his truck, hip leaned against it. "You know what's weird? Heterosexual couples never seem to come out. If they weren't tellin' no one they were datin' they jus' say 'We were keepin' it to ourselves', but when it comes to two men bein' sweeties in private, everyone starts callin' it comin' out. "

Vince blinks, regrips the fancy black pen he's using to record Wayne's responses. "Not sure if I have an answer for why that is…, "he says softly.

Wayne turns away, returning to his work. "No need. Not lookin'."

Vince clears his throat. "Darry's been living on this property the course of your relationship?"

"Yep."

Vince is about to fire off another when Darry comes into the barn, two beers glistening with condensation in hand, flashing a big grin. "Got you a Puppers, sugar," he says sweetly.

Wayne thumps down the bale he's lifting then hops up on his tailgate, patting the spot next to him which prompts Darry to settle in beside him so they're thigh to thigh. "Fuckin' mind reader, Dar," he says gratefully, and the appreciation in his voice is no act.

Darry takes a gulp, and gesturing with his bottle, points toward Vince, asks, "Am I needed durin' this little chit chat?"

"Your input would be a great help," Vince replies, managing a smile.

It's clear he's not fit for the life of a hick, or even the boots of them, and the dusty heat of being in the hay barn appears to bother him, his eyes squinted to avoid getting flecks of straw into them, hunched over awkwardly on his milk crate as a clear indication it's his first time sitting on anything other than what was built to be a chair. Wayne recalls the air conditioning of the town hall and wonders idly if Vince is close to gagging at the humid, dusty atmosphere he's been stuck in.

"Pitch an' I'll swing."

Vince flips a page over on his clipboard, then glances up at Darry. "Daryl, you own secondary property here in Letterkenny, yes?"

"Yuh."

Alarm flares in Wayne, but he keeps it in check by taking a long slug of his beer instead of letting his face announce his thoughts and watches closely as Vince, the loafer wearing town hall rep, nods and notes.

"So, you own a separate house, but live here with Wayne?"

The trap is set and Wayne smelled the bait before it was laid, so he puts a hand to Darry's lower back and answers for him. "Last I heard, it wasn't breaking any law for a man to own two squares in one town."

Vince considers this and smiles in that way lawyers do sometimes when they've received an unexpected rebuttal. "It's just… an uncommon arrangement, I suppose," he answers. "So, Daryl, you live here, but have a second house?"

Wayne's sick of this bush beating.

Darry's quick to the draw. "Gettin' her repaired to sell."

"Oh, so you're selling?"

Darry nods, finishing his Puppers and wiggling over closer to Wayne, who draws his hand up to lay an arm around his shoulder. "See, it's not a big place since I'm only one fella, so we figgured we should give her our all before goin' to bat. An' we wanted to get one more season from the garden."

"Juvenile to let a good garden go to waste," Wayne comments. "That's what I always say."

Darry nods, tossing a smile over to Wayne, his blue-green eyes catching the light.

"You two are monogamous?"

"Sure as grass is green," Darry answers.

"No domestic issues?"

Wayne grumbles, annoyed to think anyone would dare assume he's ever laid hands on Darry other than to slap his back or punch his arm the way guys do, maybe give him a shove when he's being an outright shithead. Wayne couldn't imagine scrapping with Darry. He wants to grab Vince by the collar and demand to know who's telling him that Wayne would ever hit Darry.

Darry snickers, though. "Wayne's toughest guy in Letterkenny, but he sure ain't tough on me, if you know what I mean."

And then Darry winks, his tongue peeking between his teeth.

"50% off there, darlin'. Bein' impolite," Wayne warns.

"And uh, Daryl…" Vince gives a guilty smile, likes he's a dog been caught chewing shoes. "Records show you've had substance and addiction issues in the past. Has there been any problem of that now?"

Wayne's face says what he's thinking. And Wayne's thinking about hopping off his tailgate and giving this townie a lick upside the head he's never even thought to protect from.

Darry puts his arm around Wayne's lower back, gives him a gentle, soothing rub. "No problems there at all," he answers truthfully. "Been sober on that front for several years now."

Vince nods. "Congratulations, that's a big accomplishment… Do you two plan on children?"

Darry immediately answers with, "Got the wrong parts for that, bud," while Wayne mutters, "Shouldn't be airin' that kind of laundry."

Vince smiles. He swats at a fly. "That's not part of the property situation. Just want to make note of who's going to inherit the land, but it looks like you're both healthy as horses, so there's no need to worry over that just yet, " he reassures. "You two fit the bill for a common law marriage, sure enough, an' it's clear yous are all very hard workers around here."

"Damn right," Wayne says. Relief is flooding through him like warm water and he gives Darry a light squeeze on the shoulder.

Vince stands. "I'll send word back to the town hall and my team will send you a letter of verification as soon as they can."

"Sounds swell."

Vince steps forward and offers his hand again, shakes Wayne's then Darry's. "Thank you for your time."

"No sweat."

Katy's coming down the way with a basket of eggs and she stops, says, "How goes it, boys?"

Wayne says, "Vince here was jus' finishin' to go. How's 'bout you show him the way?"

"Sure thing."

Vince goes off with Katy and Wayne watches, hears a vehicle start up. He's still got his arm around Darry and he's not really fixing to move it except for that he's got more hay to buck and Darry's got teats to squeeze so they can't just sit on their asses and bask in the sunny relief they're both feeling.

Darry speaks first. "Did it," he whispers.

"Sure did." Wayne bottoms his beer and drains it.

Darry turns to look at Wayne and they're close, breathing each other's air, and Darry's oceanic eyes sweep down to look at Wayne's lips, bigger tell than smiling during poker. His cheeks are flushed pink. "Wayne…," he murmurs and then he's craning up a half inch to meet Wayne's mouth, giving him a soft, genuine kiss that Wayne returns whole heartedly.

"Didn't want it to be for show."

"What's that?" Wayne asks in a hush.

"Kissin'. Woulda felt dirty if I'd done it in front of that nut tugger."

The corner of Wayne's mouth twitches into a smile because Darry's so fucking soft and so fucking considerate, and he takes his free hand, places it to the side of Darry's face, and kisses him again, kisses him because he can and it's not an act and he doesn't have to deny himself this anymore. Darry's lips are chapped, but he's a responsive partner, worming closer, dropping a hand to Wayne's thigh as if to anchor him, and fuck, if that doesn't get Wayne fired up.

"An' didn't wanna do it to prove to no skids who I'm sweet on."

Wayne hums, savoring the warmth that's pooling through the denim of his jeans where Darry's got his hand placed.

"Saved the farm," Darry giggles, leaning his forehead to Wayne's.

"Yuh."

"Reckon we oughta talk 'bout how we're good buddies who are smoochin' right now?" Darry asks softly.

"Don't make it awkward, bud."

"Gonna have to at some point."

Wayne runs his thumb over Darry's cheek bone. "Take 'er fer a walk," he mumbles. "We got chorin' to do first."

Darry giggles, then gives Wayne one more quick peck on the lips, before wiggling out of his grip and hopping down from the tailgate, gathering their empty bottles. "Wanna be the one to tell Katy?"

Wayne nods, taking his pack of darts out of his shirt pocket. "Send her my way if you see her."

"10-4."

Darry starts to make for the house and Wayne watches him go, small bits of hay sticking to the seat of his coveralls from where he's sat on Wayne's tailgate, his curls bouncing with his steps down around the nape of his neck, and Wayne makes note of how lucky he is.

To have his farm and to have, who he assumes, his sweetie here on it with him.

* * *

They talk about it at sunset.

Wayne says, "C'mon now," with no other indication of what he's up to and points his trigger finger towards the woods and Darry follows right along, no questions asked. They sit out where they coyote hunt in the day, where that humping stump is that Darry brought to Wayne's attention right before he'd spotted that Johnny Red Eye growing some feet yonder.

They sit shoulder to shoulder on the rock.

"Spose we oughta… fuck this pig right."

Darry nods.

"Well, spose. Figgure you. Reckon you're fixing to… Well, Darry, I'm no seasoned captain with these such uncharted waters—"

Darry smiles softly over at Wayne and puts a hand to his shoulder, giving him a pat before slinging his arm around him, which stops Wayne in his tracks. "Call it a day there, Wayne," he says gently. "I think we both got a hand in the honey, if that's what yer tryin' to get at."

Wayne squints out at the sun which is slipping down behind the tree line, a single slice of golden coin disappearing. "Yep."

"Stopped actin' 'bout halfway through, I think."

Wayne hums in agreement.

"Stay if you let me."

Wayne looks at Darry like he's crazy. "No question 'bout that, Darry, fuck."

Darry giggles and gives Wayne a good jostle, leaning his head to his shoulder. "I mean like, stay indefinitely."

"'Course. Know yer welcome without so much a knock."

"Mean like. In yer room."

"Bed ain't so big for two men to be sharin'..."

"D'aww, she's bashful…" Darry's all smiles and Wayne's heart does a flip, feeling his face warm. "Couch ain't exactly fit for that either, but we've already crossed that bridge."

"Spose sweeties should be in the same bed."

"We sweeties?" Darry asks, voice soft and earnest.

Wayne finds Darry's left hand, pulls it over into his lap and clasps both his hands around it, turning his face so they're nearly bumping noses. "If yer so willin'."

"Oh, I'm willin'." Darry pulls his arm away from Wayne's shoulder like he's trying to figure how to get closer to Wayne and can't decide which is best considering they're already forehead to forehead. He puts his right hand to Wayne's neck. "Been," he adds.

Wayne swallows dryly. "10-4 on that."

The straight lines of dying sun that escape from between the branches of the trees shine a syrupy gold over Darry's face, turning the whiskers on his chin the color of ripe wheat. "Gus don't seem to mind the company either," he jokes.

"Trout an' Cricket are good pups."

"Damn good pups."

"Oh, they're excellent pups."

Somewhere, a woodpecker is drilling loudly into a tree.

"Wouldn't be a niceness to go an' separate 'em all'a sudden," Wayne adds quietly.

Darry rubs his thumb over the nape of Wayne's neck. "You tryna avoid bein' 10-ply on me?"

Wayne doesn't answer.

"Cuz the way I see it, yer comin' my way an' yer bein' shy 'bout it."

"Got the right to be, seein' how yer my good buddy an' I'm soft as a sally for all this."

Darry grins wide and true, his eyes crinkling shut with the force of the happiness pushing out his face, and he leans in, gives Wayne one of the gentlest kisses he's ever got, whispers, "Peas in a pod, Wayne."

Wayne squeezes the hand he's still got in his lap, which is clammy, but Dan's right, it's a touch endearing. "You serious 'bout sellin' yer house?"

Darry sort of half shrugs. They're losing sunlight fast and his face is switching from gold to pink, which will soon cool to a deep blue. "How many times Katy-Kat told me to go home? Spend more time here than there, it feels."

"Most likely."

"Help me fix 'er up some an' finish the switch, I'll use some of what I get on 'er to get a bed that'll fit the two of us."

Wayne can't catch it before it's out and he's smiling. "Good stuff."

"Good enough?"

"Good enough."

"Squitos comin' out."

"Katy's fixing for a whiskey night at the house, we oughta get in before she tells Dan we went an' eloped off to Quebec."

They untangle from each, stand up. Darry wraps himself around Wayne just as fast again and slides his hand into his back pocket and Wayne allows it for the walk back because he knows he should get used to it now that Darry's his and he secretly likes it.

"Still hard no on petnames?" Darry asks, grinning stupid.

"No need for over kill with 'em, darlin'."

When they get to the house, Katy and Dan are out on the porch, setting up the grill for Wayne to put steaks on, and Darry's still got his hand dipped into Wayne's back pocket, so really there's no need to come outright and say the obvious.

"You better wash up 'fore comin' to cook," Katy teases. "Know yous were vistin' that humpin' stump."

Darry giggles and Wayne mutters, "Take a step back there, Katy, I'll tell ya where to go," as he opens the front door.

Dan asks, "So, I'm assumin's you an' Super Chief theres are what you'd calls sweeties now?"

Darry sits himself down in his little lawnchair and pats around his coveralls looking for his pack of darts. "Yep." Trout and Cricket prance excitedly around his legs and once he's got a smoke between his lips, he leans down to give them the proper attention.

Katy hands him a shot of Gus N Bru. "Knew yous were jus' a matter of time."

Dan raises up his half drunk bottle of Puppers towards Darry in an air cheers, dipping his chin down in a nod. "Goods on you, Darry."

Darry smiles, proud as a prize winning pig at the fair. "Makes it easier on all us, I reckon. If Wayne an' I split soon as the town hall was concerned, they'd come right back an' say we ain't takin' care of it." To punctuate, he gulps down his shot, taps it on the arm of his chair.

Wayne comes back out onto the porch. "Darry, there's chicken fixed for sandwiches if you an' Dan an' Katy want 'em," he says.

Dan "ooooh"s and makes his way.

"You boys gonna partake in a celebratory whiskey night?" Katy asks.

"Sure as a heifer's got teats," Wayne answers. He turns to look at Darry and adds, "Cept if you get shitfaced an' startin' rubbin' yer nipples on me, I might jus' strike ya, even if you is my sweetie there, Dar."

Darry snickers and blows him a kiss followed by a wink. "That's free of charge from now on, Big Shoots, don't break a sweat on that."

"Jesus, I change my mind, I'm already sick of you two lovebirds," Katy says. Her eyes round. "Oh! An' so you don't get confused, goin' up to bed tonight?"

"Yes, Katy?" Wayne says lowly. He lays the steaks down on the grill and they start to sizzle.

"Well, 'fore yous were up this mornin', Vince called an' explained he'd need to look 'round the house an' I switched Darry's stuff into Wayne's room an—"

"Hold yer horses there, Katy," Wayne interrupts. "That titfucker was upstairs?"

"See, this is why I sorted it all out while you two were sawin' logs on the couch. But yes. He just did a little looksee—"

"That's fuckin' improper," Wayne spits. He feels dirty, knowing Vince had been in the house while he slept and double dirty that he'd looked in his bedroom. "A man's room is meant to be private."

"Listen, all I did was toss some of Darry's farm clothes on the floor an' put a picture of you two from last year's Saint Patrick Day's party on the dresser, Wayne. 'Sides, I warned you he was gonna look around beforehand!"

"Spose that makes it easier," Darry points out. "I'm already halfway moved in."

"That's beside the point, Darry," Wayne says sternly, pointing at him with a pair of tongs. "Should've been on yer terms, movin' in."

"Oh, come off it," Darry shrugs. "Farm's secure, I get to share a spot with you tonight, an' the pups are happy. Why take a migraine on that?"

Wayne grumbles and goes back to his grilling.

"Yeah, big brother," Katy pipes up. "Be thankful for what you got."

Wayne says, "Thank you. Darry. Katy."

* * *

Wayne and Darry get a cockhair shy of being absolutely plastered, drunk enough that they're walking around like newborn calves on wobbly legs, but not so much that either of them are spitting. They hold each other's shoulders and make their way, giggling, up the stairs.

"S'real nice'a Katy," Darry mumbles. "Goin' over the McMurrays-es so wes can have the house to ourselves."

"Fuckin' hate her bein' round them…" Wayne pushes open his bedroom door. "But Katy's a real swell gal."

And just as Katy said, Darry's barn clothes are strewn on the floor haphazard, but no so much it looks staged, and on Wayne's dresser is that framed photo from last Saint Patrick's Day, Wayne and Darry smiling wide with their arms slung around each other's shoulders, looking absolutely hammered, but also so sweetly genuine in their happiness.

Darry snickers and sits himself roughly down on the edge of Wayne's bed, pulling his socks off, his boots having been abandoned somewhere on the porch before they threw in the towel and called it a night.

"Dunno what Katy figgures we'll be gettin' up to," Wayne slurs, undoing the clasps of his plaid. "'Cuz I don't like makin' the blanket monster with anyone who's pert near spittin'."

"Got whiskey dick anyhow," Darry explains lightly. He's sliding off his belt and he looks up at Wayne, catching his eye as he shucks out of his shirt and Darry's mouth goes dry. He hiccups and curls into a smile, saying, "Prettiest man in all'a Letterkenny, more like it."

Wayne turns his chin away, blushing fiercely. "Men aren't meant to be called pretty."

"S'too bad, 'cuz ya are." Darry's dancing out of his jeans, hopping circles onefooted and Wayne catches him by the arm to steady him until he's down to just his boxers.

"Yer the one with them curls," Wayne mutters, letting go of Darry's arm to get off his own jeans.

Darry flops himself down in bed and watches Wayne with curious, lovestruck eyes. "Curls ain't what makes you a girl or a sally or nothin'."

Wayne kicks his and Darry's clothes into a crumpled pile he'll deal with in the morning, pushes them aside with the rest of dirty laundry Katy had scattered so Vince thought they shared the room. He gets in beside Darry and pulls his big patchwork blanket up over the both of them. "Nope, but make ya pretty is what I meant."

Darry gets giggling and turns over so he and Wayne are skin to bare skin, places a hand on Wayne's warm, naked chest which rises and falls in satisfying breaths. "Callin' me pretty?"

"Am allowed to, yer my sweetie."

"'Cept I ain't allowed to? That don't make a lick'a sense."

"Yer the one who's fuckin' super soft."

"What's that gotta do with it?"

"Get off it, go t'bed."

Darry snuggles in closer, whispers, "You jus' don't wanna admit yer a 10-ply sally."

Wayne kisses the top of Darry's head and closes his eyes, suddenly very tired and very content. "Cut a switch, I'll give ya a lash, bud."

"Save it for the mornin'."

And before either can even open their mouths to argue another word, they're asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u @ everyone who's been reading along so far! the comments and kudos received got my heart all 10 ply over here
> 
> also smut warning ahead

The boys get to working on Darry's house quick as they can as soon as choring's done each day and Dan sticks around the produce stand because he knows what goes on between sweeties and Wayne ain't one to kiss in front of others, but fuck, Darry sure is, so Dan saves everyone the embarrassment by ensuring no skids amble up to the farm to start trouble. Wayne lets Dan tend the hens so he owes the man anyway and it's sort of a silent tradeoff. Wayne gives Dan a nod when he's getting in the truck to head off to Darry's and Dan raises his Puppers up with a smile.

They start with cleaning out the fridge and the cupboards. Wayne suggests they donate any canned goods that won't get eaten to the church and Darry says whatever's expired by less than a month can be fed out as chicken slop. There aren't a lot of dishes to pack up and Wayne figures a man only needs a few cups and plates so long as he does the dishes regular so those get packed up for donation too, save for the one coffee mug Darry insists he keeps that's got a pink cupcake printed on it.

Darry doesn't own much furniture: a single sized mattress, a small sofa his mom left him, a foldout tray for dinner and one wooden kitchen chair to go with it, a bookshelf half filled with a few decent novels, classics like of Mice and Men and Lord of the Flies, along with a few sappy paperback romances. They load just about everything save for the bookshelf into Wayne's truck and once Katy's called the skids to see if they want to cram any of Darry's old shit into the basement they all apparently dwell in, they drop it off with them. The bookshelf gets hauled over to the farm and Wayne sets it up by the dresser in his now shared room with Darry.

Darry boxes up the small stuff, like photographs of his parents, of he and Wayne and Katy at his super soft birthday parties, his first dairy cow he got as a boy and named Daisy. Wayne watches him, sitting cross legged on the floor of his cleaned out bedroom, admiring each photo before wrapping it in tissue and placing it gently down with the others.

"Can hang some in the room," Wayne says.

"Yeah?"

Wayne nods. "Maybe some in the livin' room if you want."

Darry's getting all misty eyed and if it were someone else, Wayne would be on his way to take a dart out in the yard, but instead, he squats down beside his sweetie, places a hand on his back, and helps him sort through the rest of the pictures.

Next comes sweeping the floors and washing the windows and giving the shower a good scrub. Darry's pretty on top of it so Wayne gets to the indoor repairs, like checking the pipes under the sink.

They've got Darry's old radio playing, bent antenna held up and angled towards the nearest window with a paperclip, so Wayne doesn't hear Darry come into the kitchen. Reba's "Fancy" is playing.

A hand lands gently on Wayne's thigh, legs sprawled out from where he's stationed up under the sink and he startles like he's been bit. He peers up on his elbows to find Darry smiling in at him.

"Get up, Big Shoots."

Wayne finds himself doing what he's always done with Darry. Listening, allowing.

Darry says, "Dance with me," and starts to shimmy around the empty, swept clean kitchen and Wayne watches him gyrating for a moment, unsure what to do because Fancy ain't exactly a slow song and Wayne's not much for the fast paced.

Darry takes his hand and starts moving him around and Wayne jerkily follows along, stiff in the joints, which gets Darry giggling with amusement. Wayne warms up to it and lets Darry lead with his silly wiggling and Wayne's soft enough for his sweetie that it doesn't matter how foolish it is and besides, no one's around to see him mimicking Darry's hip shaking, so he indulges until they're both red in the face and a little shiny with sweat.

Wayne leans against the sink once the song ends and Darry presses himself to Wayne's front, head to his chest.

"Sure use a Puppers after that," Darry hums.

"Oh, I could have a Puppers."

"How's about we call Katy an' see if she'll run a few over to us," Darry offers.

"Give her a ring, see where she's at." Wayne gives Darry a kiss on the cheek and steps aside, saying, "Take this one in the yard on account of that radio bein' a gust 'way from bein' gone. Don't wanna risk even touchin' it."

Darry smiles and slings a rag over his shoulder. "Real precarious situation with that old girl."

So Wayne goes out to the front yard and gives Katy a beep while he lights up a dart. "Katy, how're ya now. Oh, not so bad. Yuh. Goin' good. Near done 'cept for a paint job. 'Kay. Listen, was wonderin' if you could swing by with some Puppers. Fresh out an' don't wanna interrupt the flow if yer round to come to the rescue. 'Kay. Thank you, Katy. Bye."

Wayne puffs his dart and slips his phone back into his front jeans pocket. He turns around to look over the little house and from the front kitchen window, curtainless now, Wayne can see Darry dancing around on his own to a new song. His heart warms at the sight.

Katy comes by quick as she can, with a case of cold Puppers and a Tupperware bowl of potato salad, and news that the mail came with a letter from town hall that morning, saying the property claim was nullified and that there'd be no future risk of anyone wanting to pave road over their land. They have their celebratory beers and eat potato salad on paper plates on the front steps together.

"Gonna miss this little place," Katy sighs after a good slug of Puppers.

"Real nice place," Wayne comments.

"Oh, real cute place," Darry agrees. "But to be fair—"

"To be faaaaair…"

"To be fair, it's nothin' but a good thing we're sellin'."

"How do you figgure?" Katy asks.

Darry shrugs. "Always at the farm even before all this an' I think I'll do better with you two watchin' over me."

"No more banana boat," Wayne says.

"No more single use plastic," Katy says.

"No more feedin' the squirels that nest in the chimney."

"No more McDonald's dinners."

"See?" Darry smiles. "All on the same page."

"But you ain't gonna miss it none?" Katy asks.

"Spose I will, but… got better memories comin' down the pipe." Darry leans his head to Wayne's shoulder and fuck, if that ain't soft as a freshly scrubbed and balmed teat, but Wayne cracks into the tiniest smile and puts an arm around his sweetie.

* * *

They get the house on the market and some elderly couple buys pretty quick, no kids and only one dog, so it seems the perfect property for them, and Darry lets them dicker him down some on the asking price because he's soft for pups and babies and real cute old women saying they're planning to have their husband of fifty years build flower boxes in the window for daffodils. And even with the negotiated price, Darry comes away with a pretty penny that goes mostly into he and Wayne's joint bank account.

Darry stays true to his word and he buys a bigger mattress, which now that they've been sleeping together a couple months seems foolish because they cuddle up close as they can get even with all the new bed space to spread out on. Wayne calls it tradition, their spooning. Darry doesn't fuck with it and doesn't want to.

Wayne lets Darry park his shit box of a van in one of the barns because the man's already given up the only home he's ever known for the guy. They'll sort out the van situation eventually, maybe get Darry a little pickup he can hitch a trailer to or something. Darry would probably love a new ride and it sure would be a hell of a help with hauling hay.

It's not much a change since Darry's been in Wayne's life almost as long as Katy has. They have breakfast, they chore, they go to sleep in the same bed.

Darry gets frisky at times, but Wayne pumps the brakes before things get hot and heavy. Maybe he's a little nervous about finding out they're not compatible in the sack and it'll ruin a good thing going, or maybe he's just trying to be a good old boy and wait until they've been together a bit longer to do more than going up Darry's shirt.

It doesn't happen until they're out behind the barn past dusk, leaned up and having darts that Darry decides he'll go as far as Wayne will allow because he's tenting his coveralls something awful and damned if Wayne hasn't noticed.

Darry flicks away his dart and curls himself around Wayne's front. "Wayne."

"Darry."

"What're thinkin' 'bout there?"

"Oh, whether or not the sleddin' shed'll need a tweak up before the first snow." Wayne exhales a puff of smoke off to his right to avoid blowing it in Darry's face.

"Are ya now?"

"You wanna know what? I'm thinkin' 'bout how it looks like yer packin' a Blackhawk .357 Magnum down in yer drawers there an' I'm wonderin' what might get a man so excited he's wielding a Smith an' Wesson of that caliber." Wayne flicks away his dart.

Darry giggles, just a hair embarrassed, and presses his erection up to Wayne's thigh purposefully. "Even a smile from ya these days'll do it," he says.

"A-1. I'd call ya an animal, but spose I'm in the same boat with that one."

Darry grinds his thigh up against Wayne in one slow stroke. "Are ya now?"

"Haven't batched in a bit."

"No place to when ya share a room, I reckon."

"No place to be polite 'boot it."

"Always mix real quick in the hay loft."

"Oh, that's fuckin' inbred logic."

Darry giggles.

"Haven't had a squeezer in damn near forever," Wayne continues. And with a man so deliberate, Darry knows what that means.

He starts to pop open Wayne's shirt and when Wayne doesn't stop him, he goes to untuck it from his jeans. "Can fix that fer ya."

Wayne puts two fingers under Darry's chin and lifts his face so he can kiss him and Darry sighs into it, deflating like a worn tire, his fingers going slack where they're curled into the front of Wayne's jeans. Easy task getting Wayne fired up. Darry wasn't lying when he said a smile could do him in and Wayne wasn't lying when he agreed.

Darry keeps working Wayne's jeans, unzips the little gold track so they peel back in two flaps, his briefs tented bad as Darry's boxers. A dime sized stain of precum wets the front where Wayne's pecker presses hard and strained.

Darry spits into his palm and dips his hand into the elastic band, fingers touching a curly crop of pubic hair before brushing against Wayne's slick prick.

Wayne huffs, leans his head back against the barn wall.

"Been wantin' to get at ya," Darry mumbles, pressing little kisses along Wayne's exposed neck.

"Mm."

"Wanna know what's the scoop?"

Wayne opens one eye to peek down at Darry, who's stroking him slow and gentle. "Wh't's that?"

"Heard you batchin' thinkin' of me all them weeks back when we was jus' pretendin'. When we had different rooms."

A breath gets caught up somewhere in Wayne's chest and he chokes out, "Fuckin' improper, Dar, fuck's sake."

"What? Embarrass ya?" Darry's giggling and he gives Wayne a wrench around on the upswing that makes Wayne's knees feel weak.

"Spose it would any man."

But despite his saying that, Wayne's cock throbs and Darry knows what that means from his own experience, that under the common sense layer of shame, Wayne's hot for some aspect of it.

"Didn't mean fer you to hear."

Darry grins and with his free hand, runs his palm up Wayne's stomach to his chest, grazing a nipple with his pinky finger oh so lightly. "Forgive ya for it if you answer me this."

"Mm."

"You done it before?"

Wayne's getting shaky. "Shouldn't kiss an' tell."

"Different if it's kissin' yer jerkhand an' you tell yer sweetie."

"Yes," Wayne says so quietly, Darry almost doesn't hear over the reverb of singing leaf peepers.

Darry goes to unzip his coveralls because as much as he likes focusing solely on Wayne, his snake's starting to ache something fierce and fuck, if he don't want Wayne's hands on him almost more than he wants to breathe, but Wayne has enough about him that he reaches out, does the task for his sweetie. He fishes in Darry's boxers and grips his rod, swipes his thumb over his slit to gather the pre.

"Done it more times I can count," Wayne admits, sounding breathless.

"Oh, 10-4, darlin'. I did it to you that night."

Wayne pushes Darry's hand away to shove his jeans down a bit further, then grabs Darry by the hips, pulls them flush together, and Darry doesn't need an instruction manual to start grinding himself against Wayne, peckers pressed hot and tight together. Wayne makes a noise close to a moan and Darry's stomach burns, wants to be the only person to get Wayne to make sounds like that for the rest of his life.

"God, Wayne, I love you," he blurts out in a mumble.

Wayne brings his hand up to the back of Darry's head and he's panting now, blushing all the way down to his chest. "Love'ya, too, bud."

They keep rutting against each other, Darry leading the motions and Wayne pressing back in response, and when Wayne starts kissing Darry's neck, kissing around his ears, it doesn't take long then. His toes curl up in his boots and he surges up to kiss Wayne proper on the mouth, cock leaping between their sweaty bodies and Wayne moans into Darry's mouth and Darry feels him tense up, too. They've got streaks of seed on both their stomachs when Darry takes a step back to look down between them.

"Fuck," Wayne breathes. He tucks himself back into his jeans and goes into the barn, comes back with the cleanest grease rag he can find. He wipes down Darry's stomach, his own, then starts to button his shirt again.

"Go in an' take a shower?" Darry offers. He's heavy with sleep and he wants to be close to Wayne still.

"Yuh." Wayne steps forward and gently adjusts Darry so his kickstand ain't hanging out his coveralls then zips up the front. "Only time I'll let you toe curl with me when yer in barn clothes," he says, almost as way of warning.

Darry smirks. "Oh, she's all talk."

They get into the house and Wayne undresses Darry then himself and they share a steaming hot shower where Darry shampoos Wayne's hair for him. It's an intimate thing, a vulnerable thing, Darry knows, to be naked and soft around your sweetie who's been your best good buddy your whole life, and Darry's heart squeezes at the thought. Of how much trust they've got between.

"Lucky to got you," Darry mumbles as Wayne turns off the shower head.

"Two way street, hun."

Wayne lets Darry dress in his favorite pair of flannel pj's and Wayne puts a pair of Darry's boxers and an undershirt on, then climbs into bed.

"Skip the readin' tonight?" Darry asks with a yawn.

"Beat as a work horse."

Most nights, they'll watch some show or movie then head to bed and Darry'll read to Wayne. Darry's bookshelf has grown to two with the help of Wayne's suggestion and his reading out loud has gotten better, though he still goofs up a few words. Wayne finds it cute. He got Darry to read The Road to him, though he's already read it himself, and Darry cried at the end and Wayne let him because he'd been anticipating some waterworks.

The Saint Patrick's Day party photo is still on the dresser, but now accompanied by a candid Katy took of them at the produce stand when Darry had unexpectedly sat himself down in Wayne's lap and got everyone but Wayne laughing over it. There's a picture of Darry's mom and dad on the wall, him and his first dairy cow, Daisy, a whole collection of past super soft birthdays.

Tucked into the corner of Wayne's mirror is his personal favorite: Darry in his truck, squinting in the harsh sun with his arm out the window to give Wayne a thumbs up, smiling for the world to see. That'd been when they were loading up Darry's old furniture to give to the skids.

Wayne's got a second copy he keeps in his wallet.

Cricket and Trout hop into bed after a minute and Wayne allows it, but mumbles, sleepy, "Don't let 'em make a habit."

"Oh, but they're good dogs."

"Damn good dogs."

"Excellent dogs."

Wayne pulls Darry a little closer under the blanket, fingers all tangled in his curls and he murmurs, "Lucky to got you, Darry."

Darry's already dozed off to sleep, his lips parted slightly, but Wayne whispers, "Real lucky…" and kisses where he can reach him, near under his eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!!!
> 
> you can find me on tmblr @ficfucker


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